


Twelve Days

by MarzgaPerez



Series: Wherever You Go [1]
Category: God’s Own Country (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Family Feels, Family Issues, M/M, Mild Language, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: I went with more angst on this one, inspired by many of you who do it so well. Plus, you know those after-holiday blues...John is struggling, and so is Gheorghe.





	Twelve Days

It was the day after Christmas. John was seated at the kitchen table, shoulders slumped inward, staring hopelessly through the frosted window. How many hours had passed since Gheorghe walked out? Fifteen maybe? It felt like an eternity.

Not that John blamed him. He’d been an insufferable arse over the past few months, outdoing himself on Christmas Day. John had barely feigned interest during their gift exchange and had opted to crawl back into bed, rather than joining the others for breakfast. During Christmas luncheon, he’d excused himself from the table to go to the barn for a drink from his secret stash. He’d gone back multiple times, no longer bothering with discretion by the third time. Later that evening, Gheorghe confronted him.

“John, I’m worried about you.”

"Ta, but I don’t need you motherin’ me.”

“You haven’t been well. And it’s gotten worse since that call from Annie. Deidre and I have talked about—“ 

“Talked about what?” John had a pounding headache, having just polished off a six pack—a quantity that he had been working up to over the past few weeks.

He was visibly intoxicated, sweeping the floor of the barn with wild motions, splattering his clothes with mud and not giving it a second thought. “Just let me be. I can’t wait until this bloody holiday is over!”

Gheorghe kept a physical distance, knowing he could only push so much but hoping to get through to John. “We care about you. That’s what families do.”

“Families, you say?” John stopped sweeping and leaned his chin against the broom, laughing at Gheorghe’s words in a mocking fashion. “Seems like you might be overstepping, like, you know...with that one…”

He knew it was the worst thing he could possibly say, but he also knew it would end the conversation quickly. John didn’t want to talk about Annie or any of the feelings her recent phone call had stirred up in him. And he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t capable of crawling out of the muck on his own.

Gheorghe’s eyes widened in disbelief, the color draining from his face. “You don’t mean that,” he’d whispered.

“Oh, but I do.” The words tasted bitter in John’s mouth, and he hated himself for every one of them. “Why are you still ‘ere anyway? You’ve had success with one of your projects—the farm’s doin’ alright. But your other one...that’s a lost cause!”

It was as though John was drowning in his own self-pity and refusing the life preserver Gheorghe was trying to throw him.

Gheorghe’s lips trembled, and he took a deep breath, tears glazing over his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore,” he turned away, his hands in his pockets.

What John didn’t know was that Gheorghe had just received a call from his own mother, reaching out to ask for help. Two of their best workers had to take leave for a family emergency, and he was needed back home. _Home._ He’d thought he could call the life he was building with John his home. But now he wasn’t sure.

It was on the tip of Gheorghe’s tongue to tell him about Romania, but instead, he left John and made his way back to the farmhouse.

Nan was at the table with Martin, and she knew immediately by Gheorghe’s expression that not only had he failed to convince John to get help, but that her grandson had said or done something cruel.

She heard Gheorghe rummaging through the chest of drawers upstairs, heard him calling for a cab on his cell phone that finally had service. More than anything, she wanted to go out to the barn and talk some sense into John. But Nan knew that would be in vain—he was fighting a sickness that had plagued his mother and a stubbornness he’d come by honestly from his father.

It would have been unfair of Nan to try to detain Gheorghe or guilt him into staying. At least he was kind enough to speak with her privately before the taxi arrived.

“I need to be alone, Deirdre. I’ll come back in the morning to help out.” He was whispering so that Martin wouldn’t overhear.

Nan was saddened to see him so heartbroken, bypassing her usual sense of loyalty to John. “Where will you go, lad?”

“I’ll get a room in town...until I figure things out.”

Nan pursed her lips, frustrated by the situation and dreading the impact Gheorghe’s leaving would have on John. “Take a day or two. Then come back to us.”

Gheorghe appreciated her kind words, but both of them knew he couldn’t make any promises. Deirdre had seen firsthand how he’d tried to be patient and supportive of John, sometimes more than even she could. Today had been the last straw.

John had watched through the cracks of the barn door as the headlights of the taxi surfaced against the farmhouse, and Gheorghe climbed into the back with his suitcase. If he hadn’t been so close to passing out in the hay, John might have tried to go after him.

Instead, he’d dumped some feed out for the cows and stumbled back to the house. He went upstairs, avoiding any contact with Nan or Dad and passed out across his cold, lonely bed.

That next morning, as John sat at the table, wallowing in a haze of sadness and self-loathing, Nan emerged from the kitchen with a mug of steaming hot coffee and placed it in front of him.

“Drink up, lad.”

He didn’t make eye contact with her, already sensing the scowl of disapproval that had settled in the lines of her face. She had her arms crossed in front of her and the handle of a wicker basket resting between them.

“What’s that?” John gulped a sip of coffee from the mug, not caring that it was still too hot to consume, the burning sensation stunning him back to reality.

“A few things for Gheorghe. I ‘spect he’ll be back to work tomorrow. You’ll cover for him today.”

John nodded, fully aware that he had fucked things up royally, probably worse than before because now Nan and Martin had become attached to Gheorghe. He was so much more than a hired hand. He was the person who’d helped bring John back from his broken state—only John couldn’t seem to keep himself afloat.

John wondered if Nan was supposed to keep Gheorghe’s whereabouts a secret, but he asked anyway. “Where is he?”

“He’s found a room in town, called this morning to let us know. I asked if I could stop over and see him. Got a message or summat?”

John drank more of the coffee and lifted his eyes to face Nan. “It won’t do any good. He’s tired.”

Nan put the basket on the table and pulled a chair out, taking a seat next to John.

“It’s on your shoulders, lad. You need help...from a professional. But we can’t make you go.”

John sucked in his breath and stared vacantly back at her. He couldn’t explain why he’d been so cold and distant lately. It was more than just his mother calling out of the blue and reminding him that he wasn’t important enough for her to have stuck around.

Nan once explained that Annie used to face bouts of depression, which was part of why she left. She couldn’t stand the cold and the darkness, and Martin couldn’t comprehend how her mental illness crippled her some days.

John supposed the same could be said of him, except he had coped by throwing himself into his work, booze, and then falling in love with Gheorghe—a most welcome cure to his depression. But that hadn’t proved a sustainable treatment, and now John wondered if it was better for everyone if he went back to being a loner.

Nan knew he wasn’t going to engage her in any more conversation—especially since she’d brought up the idea of therapy—so she didn’t linger. Picking up the basket, Nan told him to keep an eye on Dad and left him to his thoughts and the quiet of an almost empty house.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Everything was off that day. The animals seemed to have felt it, or else John was imagining them giving him the cold shoulder. It was as though every living creature on the bloody farm was ashamed of him, knowing what he was throwing away and watching him fall further in his downward spiral.

When Nan returned that evening, she called for John to come back to the house. After they had dinner and got Martin settled for the night, she revealed to John what she had discussed with Gheorghe.

“He’s upset. And he’s worried about you.”

She went on to explain that Gheorghe would stay in town for the time being and report to the farm in the mornings, working opposite stations from John so that they would have minimal contact.

“Fuck.” John rubbed at the back of his neck furiously. “He’s serious this time, isn’t he?”

Gheorghe had only ever left him that time before, back in the beginning, when John had been unfaithful. Even after the newness of his return had worn off and John started one of his bad spells—as Nan would call them—Gheorghe had remained. He’d patiently handled John’s frustrations, his unkind words, and his periods of inactivity that resulted in Gheorghe doing most of the hard labor and having less time to work his side business with the cheeses.

“Aye. And there’s more.” She hesitated, the look in her eyes revealing that he was about to be devastated.

“He’s going back to Romania. Sometime in the New Year. He’ll try to find us a replacement.” John could tell Nan was bracing herself for his reaction.

Before he could even process her words, he was on his feet and headed to the front door to grab the keys to the truck. “Tell me where he is, Nan.”

John could barely breathe. His worst nightmare, the thing he’d feared a thousand times over, was happening right before his eyes. It was all his fault, and it was probably too late to do anything to stop it. “He can’t . . . go.”

“I’m sorry, lad. He’s needed back at his family farm. Making a scene won’t do you any good.”

John was shaking his head, trying to make sense out of her words and fumbling around for his jacket. His vision was blurred by his tears, his stomach in knots from everything that had transpired in the past 24 hours.

“I won’t make a scene. Tell me where I can find him.”

Nan sighed, shaking her head but caving. She jotted down the address, realizing this all felt eerily familiar to the last time John had gone after Gheorghe.

“Don’t be stupid,” she’d told him, handing over the paper.

John recognized the address. It belonged to the family who organized the weekly farmers market—Gheorghe was on good terms with the wife. John knew it would be awkward if he showed up on their doorstep after dark, but he needed to see Gheorghe.

This was longer than they’d been apart in ages, and he had to stop Gheorghe from leaving him.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

On his drive into town, John had to keep reminding himself to concentrate on the road in front of him. The closer he got to civilization, the more he noticed the decorative Christmas lights peppering various fences, trees, and homes. Instead of lifting his spirits, the sight of those twinkling lights gave him a sense of dread, realizing that by the time those lights were pulled down, Gheorghe would be gone.

He finally arrived at the flat of the Kensingtons, parked the truck, and rushed to their front door. John only had to knock once, and a woman he had seen numerous times on Saturdays appeared in the doorway as if she had been expecting someone.

“John, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. Good evening, Mrs. Kensington. May I please speak with Gheorghe?”

She was wearing a housecoat and appeared to have applied a fresh coat of lipstick. “Aye. Your grandmother called to let us know you were on the way.” John was sure from the way she looked at him—a combination of pity and disdain—that Gheorghe must have filled her in about their situation. “I’ll get him.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, relieved that he might actually get to speak with Gheorghe but also unsure of what he’d say. Everything was happening so fast.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and a lump formed in his throat. There, on the other side of the door stood Gheorghe, hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot. He was wearing a t-shirt and his plaid pajama bottoms. Before John could utter a word, Gheorghe had pulled on his jacket and was on the other side of the door.

“Deirdre told you I was here?”

“Uh, yes...and she told me...about Romania.” Their interaction felt surreal. John didn’t want to have a polite conversation, he wanted to grab Gheorghe by his shoulders and tell him he couldn’t leave, that he’d promise to stay with him, and that John wasn’t going to survive without him.

“How can I change your mind?” That was the best John could do, the most restrained he could be at the moment.

“My mother needs me for a few weeks. Maybe months.” Gheorghe was so calm, so matter of fact. “I’ll see about getting help for you on the farm.”

“Is everything okay? With your mum?” 

“They’re short-handed. I got a call from her yesterday. Ordinarily, I would have talked with you first and tried to work something out. But given the way things are…”

“Right. Yeah...” John looked into Gheorghe’s eyes. “I’m sorry, you know.” He could tell immediately from Gheorghe’s strained expression that apologies were worthless at this point.

Still, he had to try. John stepped closer to Gheorghe, reaching for his hand. Already anticipating this gesture, Gheorghe moved his hand quickly to the door knob. “I’ll be over tomorrow. I need you to give me some time.”

He was back behind the glass door despite John pleading with his eyes for Gheorghe to come back home. The mere thought of going to bed without Gheorghe—and sober to boot—made him want to curl up in the fetal position on the Kensington's front stoop.

But that wouldn’t win Gheorghe back. And it sounded like there was little to stop Gheorghe from returning to Romania. His family’s needs had to come first, and just the day before, John had been stupidly blunt—wrong as he was—about who he considered to be family.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Sometime after midnight, John had fallen into a restless sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts of how to convince Gheorghe to stay, or how to convince him to return, for now and after his trip to Romania. Gheorghe had been clear about one thing—just showing up and begging for forgiveness was not going to convince him that he could have a future with John.

As his alarm blared and John awoke with a start, he was resolved for the time being to respect Gheorghe’s wishes and keep his distance. Sure enough, at 7 o’clock on the dot, John caught a glimpse of Gheorghe walking to the barn through the bedroom window.

He arrived on foot, having asked the cab driver to drop him about a mile from the farm. That way, he could save on the fare and have the chance to mentally prepare himself for a difficult day. Trying to avoid John would be a challenge, mostly because Gheorghe missed him desperately and was concerned for his well-being. At the same time, he needed to put some distance between them. John had evolved into a walking toxin—displeased with himself and his inability to fully function on the farm. The worse he felt, the more he’d lash out or retreat into his own sullen world, and the more he lashed out or retreated, the worse he felt.

Gheorghe tried to empathize, knowing that the call from Annie had triggered feelings that John was used to keeping buried. He had learned to cope without a mother, only to have her reach out after over twenty years, likely due to a guilty conscience, and in the end, hurt John all over again.

Gheorghe feared his tactic of separating himself from John might backfire, but he’d tried everything else he could think of—gentle cajoling, subtle hints, and not so subtle hints, like having his friend Robyn come over to talk with him about getting help.

Maybe it was selfish to put some distance between them, yet Gheorghe had other obligations, and he had sworn off damaging relationships a long time ago. He would do his best to leave the Saxbys in the best position possible, under the circumstances, and if there was anything he could do for John—at a safe distance, anyway, he certainly would.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

As Gheorghe tended to the sheep in the pasture, John looked after the cattle and the chickens. There were far more of both now and plenty of eggs to collect.

Their usual ritual was to make a first pass at feeding the animals then cooking up a few of the eggs they’d gathered. But Gheorghe hadn’t set foot in the house so far that day, and John didn’t have much of an appetite, barely able to swallow the cold toast Nan had left for him.

John looked forlornly towards the corner of the barn they’d expanded. Gheorghe had built a set of boxes for each of them to house their personal items for the day—daily provisions or paperwork that needed signatures, or best of all, notes they’d leave for one another, sometimes business related but mostly personal.

John sighed, noticing that both of their boxes were empty and probably would be for awhile. He went on about his day, even delaying his lunch break until he was sure Gheorghe had already stopped by the house to get something from Nan.

When he’d come back from tending to the sheep in the nearest pastures, John found Nan stringing white lights on the front of the house.

“What’re you doin’? Christmas is over. There’s no one to see these for miles.”

Nan huffed back at him. “There’s me...and Dad...and Gheorghe.”

“I don’t think some decorations are gonna keep him here...”

Nan sighed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “S’pose you’re right, lad.” She let the lights droop towards the ground. “I’m going a bit mad, I guess, what with Gheorghe leaving…”

“You’re not the only one.” John helped her pull down the lights. They didn’t need a higher electric bill this month, even if John had warmed up to the idea briefly, knowing that it might please Gheorghe.

“Think he’ll need a ride into town?”

Nan shook her head. “It’s taken care of. He’ll be in soon.”

“Right...well...I’ll pack up some eggs for him. Maybe he’d like ‘em for his breakfast.”

Nan offered him an encouraging smile. “That’s nice, lad.”

John followed Nan inside and gathered a few eggs from the morning haul, placing them in a small plastic crate, along with a note scribbled on a piece of notebook paper: _for your breakfast_. He dashed outside to the barn and slid the crate into Gheorghe’s box.

The sun had almost set, so John left a light on in the barn, hoping to draw Gheorghe to it. John took a quick look towards the field where Gheorghe would be coming from and noticed a familiar silhouette in the distance, heading in his general direction.

A lightness filled his insides, and John waved to him without thinking. Gheorghe, wanting to be firm yet not unkind, waved back at John. But absent was the smile that that would have usually accompanied such an encounter.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

John opened his eyes, eager to get out of bed. Gheorghe belonged there next to him, the warmth of his skin, the tickle of his beard and the curl of his bare legs intertwined with John’s. The night before, he had thought about sleeping on the couch so as not to be reminded of the empty space beside him.

After gulping down his tea, John rushed out to the barn to find out if Gheorghe had accepted his sort of peace offering. As simple as it had been, John needed to connect with Gheorghe somehow.

Sure enough, the container of eggs was gone, and John noticed a piece of paper lying flat in his box. His heart fluttered when he realized that Gheorghe had scrawled the words _thank you_ right below John’s message.

 _Progress_ , he thought, soon after, scolded himself for his excitement over something that was probably meaningless. Gheorghe liked eggs. _So what?_

But an idea occurred to John. If Gheorghe wanted some space, as much as it made John’s heart ache—his whole body actually—at least he could let Gheorghe know he was thinking about him. That he loved him and that all of the thoughtless, stupid comments he’d made lately were motivated by the darkness within John, not the light that Gheorghe had brought into his life.

The next day was much like the previous one with the two of them working separately and barely crossing paths. Nan was doing a run into town, so John asked her to pick up something for Gheorghe.

When she returned, he wrote a short note again— _for your sweet tooth_ —and placed it in Gheorghe’s box with the items he’d requested—three packs of chocolate biscuits. 

The following morning, it was the same result with the biscuits gone and a _thank you_ written on the bottom of the original note.

John hated to not be able to lay eyes on Gheorghe that day, but he was due at the auctioneer center. He usually asked Gheorghe to tag along, even though he always declined, for fear of being gawked at by the old timers. John swore up and down he’d knock the shit out of anyone who gave them trouble. _It’s not worth it,_ Gheorghe would say.

John was experiencing serious withdrawal symptoms, having gone three days without a single touch or reassurance from the person he craved the most. His whole world was turned upside down.

Yet John was not without purpose. While the auction was going on, he distracted himself writing letters to Gheorghe, having brought a notebook with him and finding a quiet spot in the mess hall. He’d not been a fan of writing back in his younger days, but somehow found the words he wanted flowing freely onto the pages.

John wrote about the first time Gheorghe invited him out for a drink, surprising John with such an offer since he’d been trying to cut back on the sauce. They’d ended up at the drug store where Gheorghe bought them bottled sodas and suggested they sit at the counter to drink them.

_Isn’t this just as good as the pub?_

John had nearly spit his soda out, realizing that this was Gheorghe’s idea of a _drink_. It wasn’t the same as a nice cold pint, but it was thoughtful. When Gheorghe went to the loo, John slid the two bottle caps into his pocket, wanting to keep them as a memento from the outing, which was technically their first date initiated by Gheorghe.

Next, John waxed nostalgic about the times they’d gone swimming at the pond over the summer. The water never seemed to warm up, but Gheorghe would dare him to take the plunge—time after time—pushing him just beyond his comfort zone. The last time they’d gone was the very end of fall, before a thin layer of ice had formed, and John had shown Gheorghe his technique for skimming stones. His father had taught him how to flick his wrist with precision and how to find the best stones—the flattest and the smoothest.

In his second letter, John focused on other ways Gheorghe had touched his life, his family’s life—pitching in to take care of Martin, being a second set of hands when Nan’s back was aching, and putting nearly all of his time and energy into keeping the farm afloat.

After Gheorghe has returned from Scotland, John had promised they would be a team, but he had shirked his responsibilities as of late. Gheorghe had continued thanklessly and tirelessly, and for that, John had repaid him with unkind words and an unwillingness to face facts.

He wasn’t sure how to end the letter, except to tell Gheorghe that he was right to stand up for himself. And then he pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper from his wallet and made an important phone call.

That evening and the next, John left the letters for Gheorghe in his box with the hope that he would read them and understand how much he meant to John. He hoped Gheorghe would see the letters as a labor of love.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

And perhaps he did. The day after John dropped each letter, he noticed Gheorghe warming up to him a bit, stopping by the barn to greet him in the mornings or passing John a cigarette on his way back to the pastures.

John was hoping he’d said enough to convince because Gheorghe to spend time with him on New Year’s Eve. If they had been on good terms, John might have suggested they go into town, probably avoiding the pubs, but maybe there’d be some music in the square. They could at least share a midnight kiss.

On the evening of the 31st and with resolve, John walked into the barn where Gheorghe was packing up for the day. His taxi was already outside waiting, so John had to be quick. “Can I pick you up tonight, you know, to ring in the New Year?”

Gheorghe looked surprised. “I’m not sure. What will we do?”

“I dunno…go for a drive?”

“Alright.” Gheorghe didn’t seem overly thrilled with John’s invitation, but he probably knew the stakes were high if he turned him down. “I don’t want to be out too late.”

“Nothing fancy then. See you at eleven.” John practically sprinted out of the barn before Gheorghe could change his mind.

He took a long soak in the tub, and afterwards, began ironing a few different shirts, unsure of which one to wear. Nan stopped by his room to see what all the fuss was about, and John told her about his impromptu date with Gheorghe—even if it only lasted an hour, it would be something. Nan wasn’t so sure.

“Don’t get your hopes up, lad.” She was sitting on his bed, seemingly on the verge of criticizing his ironing technique but preoccupied with more important matters. “He’s found us a temporary hand.”

John stopped suddenly and flung the iron into its cradle. “When does this nonsense start?”

“Gheorghe’ll bring him by tomorrow, mid-day...to begin his training.” Nan paused and spoke in an even gentler tone. “He’s leaving on the sixth for Romania, bought his ticket already.”

“Fuck!” John flopped down on the bed, his hands covering his face, his mind reeling with this news, a cloud of anger and confusion filling his thoughts. “Why did he...I wish he would just get on with it, then!”

“What, lad?”

“Well...I wish he would just...go. And then I could stop moping around here…”

“Ha!” Nan slapped his knee. “I’ve seen a glimmer of that John from a few months ago, ever since you drove him away and have been tryin’ to get him to come back. It’s not over yet, lad.”

“But Nan...he’s going back to—”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t come home later.” She swatted at his knee again before pulling up from the bed. “Now fix your shirt, and quit yer blubberin’.”

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Gheorghe was leaning against the wall of the front of the Kensington’s flat, the light from the porch lamp creating his shadow. John pulled up in the truck, smiling cautiously and rolling down the window. “Ready?”

He nodded in reply and offered John a warm grin, not like he was used to from Gheorghe but still kinder than he was expecting. Actually, John wasn’t sure what to expect. Was he to make his final plea tonight? Or did Gheorghe plan to end things once and for all?

Once Gheorghe was inside the truck, John suggested they go to an overlook and watch for fireworks. Neither of them said much during the drive. John didn’t know where to start, and what he really needed from Gheorghe was some kind of reassurance—be it in his words, or even better, in his touch.

Gheorghe seemed uninterested or unwilling to give John much of anything. Not yet. He kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his gaze upon the scenery swirling by.

Once John parked the car, Gheorghe leaned back in his seat and let out a long and discontented sigh.

John didn’t want to be the one to speak first. He waited as long as he could before furrowing his brow and shouting, “Just say it!”

Gheorghe remained stoic. “Say what?”

“That we’re done. That you want me to leave you be, and let you get on with it.” John curled his fingers tighter against his palms, awaiting the fatal words to fire from Gheorghe’s lips. He closed his eyes in anticipation.

Instead of words, he heard Gheorghe shifting in his seat and opened his eyes as Gheorghe’s lips crashed into his own. John unclenched his hands and ran them over Gheorghe’s shoulders, caressing his neck and pulling him as close as was humanly possible.

 _I love you. I need you. I’ve missed you._ He felt as if he was babbling incoherently, stringing random words together, that he would say anything or do anything for Gheorghe to stay with him.

It all came to an abrupt end when Gheorghe turned away and slowly separated himself, his strong hands on John’s shoulders. “I’m sorry . . . John . . . we have to stop . . .”

They were both gasping for air, having been so consumed by one another that breathing had become an unnecessary inconvenience.

“So . . . did you have . . . summat . . . to say?” _God_ , it was taking everything in him to hold back, to let Gheorghe dictate the next move.

“Did Deirdre . . . tell you? About my trip?”

“Aye.” John bit down on his thumb nervously. “Woulda liked to ‘ave heard about it from you.”

“Sorry. I needed to keep my distance from you for a few days.”

John didn’t take to kindly to that explanation. “What am I, a fuckin’ disease?!” He gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his composure but failing.

“That’s not what I meant. Try to understand!” Gheorghe buried his face in the palms of his hands momentarily before turning to John. “I don’t know what to do. Don’t you see? My mother . . . she needs me. And you all . . . need me. And I . . . need you.”

John let his hand drift slowly over to rest on Gheorghe’s shoulder. “Then come back. We’ll figure it out.”

Gheorghe shook his head. “You’re not well.” He lifted his eyes so that he could look at John. “I can’t pretend you are. Otherwise, we’ll be in this same situation before too long.”

“I know. I was waitin’ to tell you. I’ve got an appointment to see someone, day after tomorrow.” John looked at the clock. It was after midnight already. He hadn’t even noticed the noise of the distant fireworks. “Well, tomorrow then. I’m not puttin’ it off any longer.”

“That’s good.” Gheorghe lifted his eyes, a trace of hope in them. “See to it that you go.”

“I will. Was gonna write to you about it.”

Gheorghe’s eyes brightened. “I like your letters, John. You’re a good writer.”

“Go on, but that’s me...not wanting to lose you, is all.”

“They’re beautiful.” Gheorghe found John’s hands and locked into his fingers. “I’ve missed you too.”

“So come home.”

“No, not yet. I’m sorry.”

“Gheorghe . . . you’ll be gone for weeks, maybe months. I want to be with you.”

“I know, I know. But I can’t be your, what is the word? Your, your . . . _crutch_.”

John didn’t understand any of this. Why was Gheorghe continuing to test him and putting distance between them when they were about to be separated by hundreds of miles? Didn’t he believe John this time about seeing a therapist? Yes, he’d made similar promises in the past and broken them, but he was ready now.

“Guess I oughta get you back to your place. It’s late.”

“John…”

“It’s alright. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

They drove back to the flat in the same uncomfortable silence as their ride to the overlook. John felt that Gheorghe was trying to punish him in some way, and he didn’t deserve it.

When they arrived outside the flat, and Gheorghe turned to open the car door, John relented. He placed a firm hand on Gheorghe’s shoulder and snuck in a quick kiss before he could protest.

Gheorghe kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him, not wanting to let him go but eventually pulling away, slowly, slowly, running his fingers along the back of John’s hand, his fingertips massaging the tips of John’s fingers before he whispered _good-night_ and closed the car door behind him.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Nan let John sleep in that next morning. He felt the tugging of an unknown urgency and opened his eyes to a still darkened room, the heavy curtains drawn over windows. There were muffled voices coming from out front—two he recognized and one he didn’t. He remembered that Gheorghe was to bringing over the part-time worker.

John lay in the darkness, remembering his conversation with Gheorghe from the night before. A part of him was angry and resentful—how could Gheorghe just up and leave him when he was clearly committed to getting help? And what if Gheorghe never came back? Or what if he was needed indefinitely back in Romania and John lost him forever?

He grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and covered his face to muffle his voice. “Fuck! Fuck!”

 _Wait_ , how loud had he been? Probably wasn’t the best first impression for the new hired-hand to hear cursing coming from inside the farmhouse. Though it probably wouldn’t be the last time.

John tried to fall back asleep, but his sense of responsibility got the better of him. He threw on his work clothes and stopped by the bathroom to splash water on his face. Catching a glimpse of his pale, weary face in the bathroom mirror, John was used to looking like this on New Years, but today, he wasn’t hungover, just emotionally drained.

By the time he got downstairs, Gheorghe had taken off on the bike with the new farm hand, and Nan was bustling around our front, tending to their winter garden. Martin was seated at the window, soaking in a small amount of sunlight.

“Mornin’ Dad.”

“J-John. You . . . alright?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Gheorghe . . . leavin’?”

“That’s what he says.” John shrugged, not wanting his father to worry. “We’ll make do.”

“Can’t . . . be helped.”

“No, it can’t.” John grabbed a piece of toast from the table and noticed a fresh batch of Gheorghe’s cheese. He scooped a dollop onto his bread. This one was his favorite with bits of fresh herbs.

“Need anything, Dad?” he managed between bites and gulping down some tea.

“No . . . son. Just take . . . care of you.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.”

John shoved the last bite into his mouth and went outside to talk with Nan. She was seated on a makeshift bench, her gardening gloves covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“Happy New Year, John.”

“Oh, right. Forgot to tell Dad.” John kicked at the ground. “Not sure how happy it’ll be though.”

“Humph.” She brushed off his comment. “Gheorghe’ll be back soon. You can take a turn showin’ that new lad around. Local boy. Sam’s his name, I gathered. He finished school a few months ago. Doesn’t know much about farmin’ but he’ll have to do for now.”

“Great,” John muttered. Still, it was kind that Gheorghe had found them a pair of able hands. It’s more than most people would have done. “I’ll be up in the barn, then. See you for supper.”

John tended to the cows. He’d wait for the young man to come back, and in the meantime, he wrote a quick message to Gheorghe.

_I’ve got my appointment tomorrow at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. It’ll be the first of many, I’m sure, if she’ll see me again. And if she can get me to talk. Don’t know how comfortable I’ll be the first go around._

_Maybe you’ll think this is weak of me, but I was hopin’ you’d ride along with me. I think it’s a fair enough request, seeing as how you’re leaving soon._

_Let me know,_

_J_

Another half hour passed, and John decided to go out and look for Gheorghe and the young man. He’d use the spare bike and run the lad to the upper pastures, figuring Gheorghe had started him at the pastures near the old stone barn.

About halfway down the road, he spotted Gheorghe and the lad and waved them over. Gheorghe looked as perfect as ever, smiling and content to have someone to mentor.

“Hiya. I’m John.”

The lad was slightly plump, his cheeks flushed, probably from all the walking they’d done, combined with the frigid air. John would have never given this fella a second thought as a laborer, but Gheorghe had always been willing to take on a challenge.

“This is Sam.” Gheorghe swung his leg over the bike and hopped off. Sam followed, extending his hand to greet John. “Pleased to meet ya, Mr. Saxby.”

“No, really. Call me John.” He was annoyed, not necessarily at the lad but because he was going to be replacing Gheorghe and probably only capable of doing a quarter of what Gheorghe could do.

“Aye. John. Looking forward to working with ya.”

“Dunno about that. Hop on my bike. I need a word with Mr. Ionescu.” John nodded towards the bike ridden and stepped over to Gheorghe, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Shite. Forgot my gloves.” He tapped the side of Gheorghe’s boot with his own. “Anything I need to know?”

Gheorghe smiled in a familiar way. The distance that had formed between them seemed to be narrowing. “Nope. Be nice.”

“Course, I will.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah...tomorrow…”

John was disappointed that he wasn’t going to have more time with Gheorghe. At least he could cling to the hope for a few hours longer that Gheorghe might agree to accompany him to his therapist appointment.

He rode with Sam to the pastures nearest to the house, wondering if Gheorghe was in the barn at that very moment, reading his note. He didn’t have long to be distracted as Sam began peppering him with questions about the flock and whether he’d be helping with the cheese making process.

John discovered that Sam was a fan of both Gheorghe and his cheeses, having been multiple times to the farmers market with his mum and dad. He was deferring University for a year while he took night classes to improve his marks, so while the work was new to him, the hours would fit nicely with his schedule and _hopefully_ , John thought to himself, _Gheorghe would back be home in time for lambing season_.

“So you want to make cheese, do you? I’ll mention it to Gheorghe.”

“Only if it’ll help. Gheorghe said you’ll be in a pinch while he’s gone.”

“Aye.” John took a deep breath, willing himself to show a bit of kindness to the lad. “It’s nice you can fill in. It’s hard work, but it’ll keep you honest.”

“I think so, too, sir. I mean . . . John.”

“Well . . . make your way back down and check in with my nan. She’ll give you instructions for tomorrow.”

“Alright. See you in the morning.”

“Right. _Early_ in the morning.”

John went back to his work but glanced over his shoulder once the lad became a shadowed silhouette in the distance. He could see that Gheorghe had waited for Sam so that they could ride back into town together. _Lucky_.

It was another hour or so before John started towards the barn. He walked the perimeter of the pasture three times, checking for any breaches in the fence but really, he was stalling.

_Fuck, if I ever ask Gheorghe to marry me, it’ll be a lot easier than this._

He felt a heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders, the anxiety of waiting on Gheorghe’s reply mounting. John was taking this first step to get better, after all, and he just needed a little push, not a crutch.

With the night sky upon him, John trekked over to the barn. As much as he tried to temper his pace, he couldn’t resist sprinting over to the boxes to search for a response from Gheorghe.

But there was nothing. His heart sank, and he slumped against the wall, the grain of the wood rough against his jacket and the skin of his cheek as he slid to the ground.

Maybe Gheorghe would let him know in the morning, or maybe that daft lad had picked up his note by mistake or maybe...fuck, this was all hard enough without having to wonder what he could do to make things right with Gheorghe.

John thought about the way Annie had sounded on the phone—her voice heavy with guilt, asking him to forgive her and suggesting that they could meet one day. He wouldn’t have spoken to her except he was the one who answered her call. 

_“Johnny?” He didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line, only figured it was someone who knew him. A woman._

_“Yeah. That’s me.”_

_It sounded like the person let out a sob. “It’s really...you? My Johnny?”_

_His breath caught in his throat, no longer distracted by the conversation Nan and Gheorghe were having in the next room._

_“Who is this?” He gulped._

_“It’s...Annie. Your mum.”_

_The room was suddenly spinning, and John leaned into the wall to keep from toppling over. He couldn’t speak, wondering why she was called him after all this time._

_“You still there, Johnny?”_

_“Aye,” he croaked. After the initial shock had worn off, he was tempted to slam the phone into the receiver. “I need...to go.”_

_“Wait! Please. I s’pose it’s unfair of me to call like this.”_

_“Yeah, a little.”_

_“But it hits me often, especially at Christmas, how much I—”_

_“I really oughta go.” John could feel traces of his lunch rising in the back of his throat, caused by a combination of anger and grief, pounding on his insides._

_“I understand. Maybe another time. I’m sorry, Johnny.”_

_He couldn’t stand it any longer and slammed down the phone. Who did she think she was? Why now? Why ever?_

_Nan called out to him. “Who was it, John?”_

_But he couldn’t answer her, rushing up the stairs and then making a dash for the loo, emptying the contents of his stomach into the commode._

_Up until that call, John was having one of his good days, spending the morning working side-by-side with Gheorghe in the pastures, but afterwards, he was inexplicably holed up in their room for hours._

_When Gheorghe came to check on him, he’d mumbled something about the call being from Annie and not wanting to discuss it further. He figured Gheorghe might tell Nan, but neither of them would bother his dad with the matter. Annie had hurt him too._

John didn’t miss his mother, he missed the idea of her. Though Nan had more than filled the gap when she left, he would always wonder what it would have been like to have a mother and a father to care for him.

“John?”

He was startled by a familiar voice. _Gheorghe_. Straightening his back against the wall, John passed a sleeve over his eyes.

“I thought you’d gone.” John pulled himself up as Gheorghe came closer with a folded piece of paper in his hands.

“I was helping Nan take down the Christmas tree. Didn’t realize how late it was.”

John cleared his throat. “That for me?”

“It is.” Gheorghe tucked the paper in his jacket pocket. ”I can tell you what it says.”

“Go on then.”

“The answer is _yes_.”

John breathed a sigh of relief as Gheorghe tucked his arm around John and whispered into his ear. “I’m here for you. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

Resting his chin on Gheorghe’s shoulder, John threaded his arms around him, feeling a sense of calm, like he was where he belonged.

But he didn’t linger too long. Gheorghe was right that he had to focus on how to exist independently of their relationship.

“Can I drive you back to the Kensington’s flat?”

Gheorghe stepped back, his expression one of bewilderment. “Oh. I thought it might be easier...if I stayed the night.”

John winked at him. “I bet Nan’ll be fine if you want to sleep on the couch.”

“The couch, is it?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve gotten used to having the bed all to myself and sleeping with the windows—“

“Alright, alright!” Gheorghe laughed and held up his hands as if to admit defeat. “The couch it is then. If that’s what you want…”

John’s heart was racing at an embarrassingly quickened pace, though he didn’t care if Gheorghe knew. “Maybe I’ll have to reconsider. It’s been strange not having you there to keep me warm.”

John didn’t care if they slept out in the barn with the cows lowing all night, so long as they were together.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The next few days passed by too quickly, just as John suspected they would. He tried to be present in them as much as possible and not worry about the difficulties ahead.

Things were clearer to him now. He didn’t need a therapist to explain them, though he’d immediately liked the person Robyn had suggested. He set up a weekly appointment with her for the distant future. Their first session was more of a get-to-know you situation, and they’d delve into deeper topics later on.

At the very least, the session with the therapist helped John open up more to Gheorghe about the call he’d received from Annie and how it had triggered his fear of being abandoned. John had years of practice putting up walls with his dad and Nan, but they weren’t going anywhere. That left Gheorghe. John pushed him away out of fear, and in doing so, had been on the path to losing him for good.

Nan and Dad were relieved that John was giving therapy a try. Years before, when John was having trouble in grade school, they wouldn’t consider it. They didn’t believe anything was wrong with him that more chores couldn’t cure. But watching him self-destruct and being unable to help him had changed their minds. And with Gheorghe back in the picture, they were hopeful that John would continue to have a chance at happiness.

Nan let Gheorghe borrow the family’s two largest suitcases with the promise that he’d return them soon. The subtext of her comment was clear. She also filled half of one suitcase with chocolate biscuits and a few kinds of tea that Gheorghe was partial to, again in an effort to persuade him to return home as soon as possible.

The last two days before his trip, Gheorghe made sure that John and Sam were comfortable with his process for making cheese. There had been a huge demand around the holidays, so their supply needed to be replenished. John promised to do his best to make that happen with the rest of the milk Gheorghe had frozen.

The night before Gheorghe was scheduled to travel, Nan cooked a big meal and then sent the boys off to bed. As they lay quietly in each other’s arms, Gheorghe reached behind his pillow to retrieve an envelope, tracing the corners of it along John’s bare arm. “For you.”

“What is it?”

“A late Christmas present.”

“You already gave me a pair of gloves.”

“It still counts. It took the wise men twelve days to get back home.”

“I don’t deserve another gift.”

“It’s a gift for me too.”

John shrugged and commenced with opening the envelope. He ran his finger along the seam, curious about the contents and not wanting to tear them. Inside the envelope was an airplane ticket with a travel date a month out and a destination of Otopeni, Romania.

“This for me?”

“Yes. I want you to visit. My hope is that things will have settled here and at my family’s farm.”

“I’ve never flown before.”

“So...is that a _no_?”

John rubbed his cheek against Gheorghe’s shoulder. “I’ve thought about what you said before, you know, how you don’t want to be a crutch…”

“I was too harsh.”

“No, you were right. You’ve taken the brunt of my bad spells, longer than anyone else would. I don’t want to mess things up again.”

Gheorghe stroked the back of John’s neck tenderly. “There’s no pressure. I want you to meet my family, see where I grew up. But when you’re ready.”

John paused to collect his thoughts, flattered that Gheorghe wanted to introduce him to his family. “Well, then. I guess it’ll be another _first_ for me.”

“Good. And maybe...we can travel back together.”

“Don’t tease me. Besides, you oughtnt have spent your money on this.”

“I’ve been saving for...what do you call it? A day with rain.”

“Aye. A day with rain.” John began to ply Gheorghe’s neck with small wet kisses, laying the ticket on the nightstand and turning his attention to giving Gheorghe one last parting gift. 

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shout-out to reilaroo for the encouragement with this fic and for contributing to the GOC Christmas collection. Same goes for TheMewsAtTen and Rose_2925.
> 
> Being part of this fandom and chatting with the readers and writers has truly been a gift. Happy 2019 to all of you!


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